It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside
by IdunnsApples
Summary: You nearly ran him over on your way back from school, and now you can't quite seem to forget him, or the way he looked at you. Scabior/ You
1. Chapter 1

Finally.

You're almost home. And it's Friday. The ride back from school seemed to take an age. Probably the weather, you think to yourself. Its only mid November, but in the morning, the ground is covered by a thin sheen of frost and the wind is bitterly cold, biting into your face and ripping its way through your clothes, slipping down your neck past even the thick woolly scarf you wear most of the time. It was blowing in your face, pushing against you on the way home, making it that bit harder to cycle up the hill you already struggle with.

Its about five o'clock, if you hurry and get home before it gets too dark, you can take your dog Bo for a walk. Already, the light is fading, muting the already dull tones of autumn down even more. You continue down the road, past the gaudily painted house that now stands empty and pass the old peoples home on the right, smiling at the old man who always sits at the window of his apartment, and sticking your tongue out at the small dog that seems to bark all day, every day. You're surprised there haven't been any complaints to the council yet. Thankfully, you live further down the road, past the church and the little shop that sells its wares at ridiculously high prices.

You turn left at the oak, getting off your bike to take the shortcut down the narrow alley that may be dingy, but saves you a good five minutes of being in the cold. Once you've wedged yourself through the kissing gate, you get back on your bike. All you really want to do now is get home, put on warmer clothes and then take Bo for a walk. Maybe you'll jog.

After all, according to your gym teacher just cycling isn't enough exercise for 'such a fine young lady'. What a weirdo…At least he's better than your French teacher, you think dryly. Two assignments to be finished by Monday: one presentation and one long essay about some-

You screech your bike to a halt, cursing out loudly in shock.

You nearly hurtled into someone standing in the middle of the lane. He was looking at something intently, fiddling with the sleeve of his left arm, holding something that looked like a small branch in his hand. He turns towards you now and you pause, somewhat taken aback by his slightly eccentric appearance. You braked just in time, the front wheel of the bike not an inch from his black boots.

Although the light is dimming, his eyes, blue with grey specks, stand out starkly. He looks at you, unblinking, and you notice you still haven't moved your bike.

Trying to manoeuvre your bike past him (you need to wheel it back before being able to get past him, and even so its still close to him) you feel your face heat up. Blood rushes into your cheeks, as you stammer an apology about "_not seeing you, and uhm, almost driving into you…I guess. Sorry about that_". He doesn't acknowledge what you said, still looking- no, staring into your face. You purse your lips and squeeze past him, brushing his long coat as you try to get away. As you move away from him, you hear him murmur "_Don't worry, beautiful. Could happen to anyone_" with an unsettlingly smooth voice that seems to belie his scruffy appearance.

You glance over your shoulder to see him smirking, before nodding his head at you in what seems to be a farewell. Closing your eyes briefly, you set back on your way. Speeding off towards your house, you don't look back until you reach the gates. Entering the numeric code needed to unlock it, you glance back briefly and see him, still standing where you left him, long brown hair tied back roughly, leather coat flapping slightly, black boots laced up.

You slip through the gate and lean against it, exhaling slightly and rubbing your eyes. It feels as though he is still looking at you, as if he can look through the gate and see you standing there, visibly shaken, but slightly thrilled. At least he was handsome you think to yourself. Better have a near collision with an attractive, if older man, than with a group of rude, hormonally challenged boys your age. Shaking your head and smiling, you wheel your bike towards the front door, locking it to the birch tree.

As you rummage through your school bag to find your key, you notice you lost your hat. Sighing, you unlock the door, mentally reminding yourself to look for it on the walk with Bo. He comes bounding along towards you now, and nuzzles his head against your leg. You pat his large head and close the door, locking it again. Walking into the Kitchen, you call your Mother to say you're home.

You get no answer, but find a note pinned to the Fridge.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi Honey, hope you're okay. Had an argument with dad- again! He stormed off, probably to the pub, so I took Bo out for a walk. He'll be fine for the night, took care of all his 'business'. LOL! Going out to impromptu dinner with the girls, don't know when I'll be back. Text me if you need anything, you'll manage to make some food, won't you? If dad comes back and he's still responsive then tell him- nevermind. That can wait until tomorrow. Feel free to go out again with Bo (what about jogging?) but I don't know if he's up to it.**

**Love, Mum xox**

You roll your eyes at your mothers attempt to sound all breezy and carefree, not to mention 'hip' in the note, when she's clearly sad. Lately, your parents have been arguing over anything and everything. It doesn't help that your mother takes things too seriously and your dad drinks too much in the evening.

You're sick of it, of course, this constant nagging, accusing and shouting that takes up pretty much all of your home life. At least they're not taking it out on you, or on each other with violence. That has to be something, surely? You glance over at Bo who is slumped down in his basket, watching you crumple up the note and throw it on the counter.

You're not hungry, it's too early and anyway, your appetite has disappeared upon reading the note, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. You don't know if they'll ever stop arguing, and, now you think of it, you're not even sure why they started in the first place.

Rummaging through the fridge, you find a carton of apple juice. You get a treat out for Bo and throw it deftly into his basket. He devours it swiftly, tail wagging. At least someone who still enjoys his food. Smiling, you walk into the living room, flop down on the sofa and turn on the TV. Not that you want to watch anything in particular, you just need some background noise to take your mind off things.

Homework can wait for tomorrow. Or later on, anyway. Especially that French essay about… what was it about? You've forgotten, you realise, probably still muddled from the near crash with the man on the way home. Which reminds you; your hat… you've lost your hat. Sighing, you turn the TV off, and get up, whistling to Bo as you walk towards the door. You put on your shoes, wrap your scarf around your neck and grab his lead. Just in case you encounter any cats. Or squirrels. Bo loves squirrels almost as much as he loves Frisbees. Picking up your keys and a torch (just in case) you swing open the door.

Bo speeds off towards the gate, yapping excitedly. Locking the door behind you, you walk towards him, checking around your bike for good measure- maybe your hat just fell out of your bag. Or not.

You open the gate and Bo walks off into the near darkness. _Fine then, don't wait_ you chide him, clicking your tongue. Walking off the way you came, you take a deep breath before pausing.

Something doesn't seem quite right. You call to Bo, who comes trotting towards you, a stick firmly held in his jaw. You pat his head and attach his lead. You feel alone and vulnerable out in the dark, and the cold. You shake off any fears you have and make your way towards the shop, scanning the ground all the time, searching for your hat. Once you reach the kissing gate, you turn your head around the way you came. The lamp where you're standing is flickering. Looking up, you see the light fade, flare back up warm and orange and then flicker. You're somewhat more relaxed now- it was the light, or rather the lack of it, that made you feel weird. You turn back to the gate and reach for the latch. It's always been a bit rusty and you always used to have trouble opening it when you were younger. Now though, it seems frozen. Bo emits a grumble and lies down on the ground, staring up at you expectantly. You rattle at the latch but it wont budge. Swearing, you're about to turn around, when the lamp goes out completely.

You freeze, then get out your torch, walk towards the lamppost and kick it. Once, twice, three times you kick it as hard as you can. Each time your foot connects with the post, it emits a hollow clanging sound. The lamp obviously refuses to work again, so you walk back to the gate, trying the latch again. You mull over your choices before clambering over the gate and leaning back down to lift Bo up after you. You walk through the alley, shivering slightly. It's cold enough as it is, but in this narrow pathway with the walls closing in on either side, it seems even more chilly.

Nearing the end of the passageway, you see a car drive past, its headlights briefly illuminating the alley, light dancing up then back down the narrow walls. You look at your watch, its ten past 6 and pitch black outside. Stepping out of the alley, you make your way towards the shop. You hear voices; it seems to be a large-ish group of teenagers. You cross the street to avoid walking past them directly and glance across the street briefly. About 7 teenagers are watching you, apart from a boy and girl who seem totally oblivious of anything happening around them. You see two more girls, and three guys. You're glad you've got Bo with you- he makes you seem safer. You walk on, eyes downcast, ignoring anything they may shout at you.

"_Hey babe"_ you hear suddenly, very close to your ear. You jump and whirl around, coming face to face with one of the youths. He's clearly pretty drunk; you can smell the sweet mixture of some cheap Alco-pop on his breath. He leers at you before glancing back at his friends on the other side of the street who clearly find it pretty amusing. _"How are you, cutie? Fancy joining us, or rather me tonight? See, my mates 'ave all got some chick already, I'm all alone"._ You curl your lip in disgust. _"Its cold out, see? I'm cold and might need warming up. If you know what I mean…"_ He trails off suggestively and winks at you, shuffling closer, invading your already pretty limited personal space. Think, you urge yourself. Get out of there! Bo tugs on the lead.

"_Uhm, sorry, maybe later, I've just gotta walk my do-" _

The next thing you know, before you can react, you feel his lips on your mouth. You taste sugar, vodka and cigarette smoke and something acidic that may or may not be vomit. You push him away roughly, and hear his 'mates' jeer and laugh at him. _"She's just playin' hard to get mate, keep going"_ Your face red-hot, you scowl at them darkly, before turning back to look at him. He advances towards you again.

"_Come any closer and I will not be responsible for my actions,"_ you hiss at him, raising your finger and pointing it at him in warning. He pauses, looking unsure. _"Just leave me alone. Maybe if you weren't drunk it'd be different,"_ you plead. He gives a half smile before looking at his friends. Looking back at you, he shrugs, and spits on the pavement _"not like I want you anyway, you ugly skank"_. He ambles back to the others and you walk away hurriedly, wiping your mouth, tears beginning to prick your eyes.

You walk towards the church, and turn into the graveyard.

Finding the nearest bench, you sit down, hugging your knees to your chest. You rock back and forth, tears silently streaming down your face in humiliation and despair. You look at Bo, who has settled down on the ground, completely content.

You hear leaves crunching behind you as someone approaches and close your eyes. What if they followed you? Who knows what they'll do…

Something drops onto your knees. You peep through an eye and see… your hat! Just as you are about to reach out and put it on, something drapes across your shoulders. A…jacket? Its heavy but its warm. You feel hands wrap it around you tightly.

Sniffling, you wipe away your tears, and turn around to thank the person.

There's no one there.

The graveyard is empty, save for you and Bo. Confused, you get out your torch and let the beam of light travel across the grass and leaves. Nothing. There's nothing there. You're about to turn the torch off again, when the beam hits something reflective, throwing the light back at you.

It's a fox. You sigh in relief. The light must have hit its eyes in such an angle that it got reflected back at you. You move the light slightly, and admire its sleek body. It's a rather unusual colour, more dark brown than the usual red, but there, on the ridge of its back, you see a red streak. Surprisingly, Bo doesn't even seem to acknowledge the fox, dozing lightly.

You turn back towards the fox and see it slink off into the darkness before pausing, and looking at you directly.

_Stay safe, love_

It was a voice. You're sure of it. You heard a voice. But there's no one around. Unless you just imagined it. But surely you're not that loony yet? If you wouldn't have known better, you would have said it was the fox that said it, but animals can't talk, so who was it?

It was a mans voice, smooth, like a caress. A voice that reminds you of the smell of a wood fire, leather, freshly dug earth, maybe the smell of rain after drought and a … man? Tall, dark, handsome and unknown.

Snuggling into the jacket, you notice its made of leather. It's a black leather coat. It seems familiar, but you can't quite pinpoint from where.

Exhausted, you feel yourself dozing off. You manage to put on your hat, and lean your head on your knees, inhaling the scent of the coat, before falling asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Thank you all for your kind reviews, as well as adding the story to your story alerts etc.! I really, really appreciate it and so far, your comments and your reception have been nothing short of wondrous!_

Hazily, you feel hands flutter about your body, closing the coat, wrapping the scarf more closely around your neck. A slight jolt, then you find yourself leaning against something warm and comfortable. Sighing contently, you burrow yourself more closely into the ... person?

You hear a throaty chuckle before drifting back into sleep.

Sun. Sand. Palm trees swaying softly in a cool breeze. You can hear the waves splash against the shore, see the turquoise water build up out of the water then break into white foam that flies against your face. Walking along the beach, you find shells of every size, shape and colour. Picking the prettiest ones up, you turn around smiling and show them to … the fox standing in the shadows? It turns around and pads off into the forest that has inexplicably grown, dark, damp and foreboding out of the sand. You pause, hesitantly. Glancing at the fox, you see it's waiting for you to follow, eyes gleaming at you expectantly. You shake your head slightly. You want to stay in the sun, the warmth. The forest scares you. Even if the fox were to protect you, which it doubtlessly would, you'd still feel uncomfortable amongst the dark trees. You scrunch your face up in an approximation of an apology and turn back to the water.

You see the warm blue ocean drip upwards forming a black house with dark windows. The door opens and a woman with wild hair steps out, making her way towards you. A man, another woman, another one, and another man quickly follow her. Soon, about fifty people are walking towards you. The next second, they break into a run. As they advance, the sky blackens. Thunder rumbles and you see lightning flash its way across the back night sky.

Raindrops start falling, and there is a palpable slump in the temperature. You never did like being caught in a thunderstorm. You walk backwards slowly, not daring to take your eyes off the approaching mob when you trip over a tree root. As you watch, it sprouts out of the ground and winds its way around your body, holding you down in a vice like grip. Struggling to move, let alone breathe, you crane your head and see the fox standing where you left it. The dark forest is gone. In its place you see a spring meadow surrounded by saplings.

You grapple with the thick root and look at the fox. It'll help you, surely? It doesn't move. Just looks- no, stares at you with its grey blue eyes. Unflinching, it stares you in the face. Pleading at it to help you, you see it transform into a tall man. His long brown hair with a red streak resembles the fur of the fox. His eyes bore into you, cold. Merciless. You scream in pain as the root crushes your leg, breaking the bone. Only at the sound of your anguish do you see something flicker in his beautiful dark eyes and he is beside you in a flash, tugging off your coat. Its leather and its warm and it smelt so good. You want to keep it on, selfish as you are, and cry out as the root now digs deep into your exposed flesh. You implore him to stay.

He walks away and turns around one last time before shaking his head softly. _I tried to warn you. I wanted to help you_. _You didn't listen. It's too late now. I tried to help you…_ You hear his voice in your head, getting more and more quiet as he retreats into the meadow.

You call after him in desparation, sobbing. _"Please! I'm sorry! Please, just help me! I __**need**__ you. Don't leave me alone. Don't leave me here... "_

He's gone. Before you know it, you feel a heel pressing down against your throat and see a flash of green light. Inhaling sharply, instinctively, intent on filling your lungs with one last breath of air, you expect pain.

You feel nothing. Opening your eyes, you see stars shining brightly against a backdrop of dark blue sky. You see the moon, glowing softly, its circular shape partially blotted out by the outline of a pine tree. You can hear fire crackling and feel its warmth. You wonder where the woman and her mad mob went, if they'll find you here. You don't know where you are, so they surely wont know where to find you.

Looking back up at the moon, you see its craters, and just as you begin to see the man in the moon, someone stands up, blotting out the light. You shrink back, fearful the woman found you. Instead of looking at the mad, contorted features of her face, you find yourself seeing the most beautiful face you could imagine.

Perhaps he didn't abandon you after all. He must have come back from the meadow to save you. You open your mouth to say something to him, a thank you, when you get a fuzzy feeling that starts in your tongue and quickly, within milliseconds, spreads to your entire body. Your vision blurs, and you see him lean down closer to you, concern etched into his fine features, before your head lolls back and darkness engulfs you.

You feel like you're on a ship. Or a camel, maybe. Perhaps a car. You hear a dog bark. Its disturbing your peaceful, undulating journey that relaxes you. It won't stop barking. You growl at it before sleepily telling it to respect other peoples peace and kindly be quiet. It stops barking at the sound of your voice. Satisfied, you relax back into your mode of transport, finding a comfortable nook to rest your head. You feel a soft, warm fabric, linen or silk maybe. You smell wood smoke and settle down infront of the roaring fire in your minds eye, which is warming you with its every heartbeat.


	4. Chapter 4

When you wake up, you find yourself lying in your bed. The pale, wintry morning sun does its best to fight its way through the blinds, bathing your room lightly in an ethereal glow. Propping yourself on your elbow, you glance at the clock hanging over your door: 9.17 a.m. Groaning inwardly at your early awakening, you rub your eyes before slumping back down into your mattress, curling your duvet up around you. Smacking your lips in satisfaction, you cuddle yourself further into the warmth before your eyes fly open at the sound of your parents arguing and crockery smashing.

You wont be getting any more sleep now they've decided to start shouting at each other, so you flip back the covers and climb down the ladder of your bunk bed. Stretching, you open the blinds and look down onto the driveway, bleary eyed and temporarily stunned by the light shining unrestricted in to your room. You grab the nearest jumper and open the bedroom door, almost tripping over Bo, who has decided to settle down in front of it like a draft excluder. You walk downstairs, duly followed by the large dog. Stepping into the kitchen you gingerly sidestep the pieces of broken plate, and motion to a shard of brightly decorated porcelain, before noticing you're alone in the kitchen. After you've made yourself a cup of tea, you slink off into the living room and flop down on the couch. You take a sip of tea and feel it burning down your throat, which now you think of it, feels rather sore.

Coughing experimentally a few times, you feel the cough scratch its way up your throat rather ferociously. Grateful for the warm beverage, you gulp it down quickly, before setting the near empty cup on the coffee table, resting your feet next to it. Closing your eyes, you notice a thumping, throbbing pain that's emanating from your temples. You think of various reasons why you might be ill, before settling on the fact that you went out without a jacket to look for your hat. Which you seem to have found, as you saw it lying on the chair in your room. But how did you get home?

You remember a feeling like being on a ship, along with a terrible nightmare and a fox, the smell of a wood fire and a man with long, dark hair, a rugged but handsome face and brilliant dark blue ey-

"Good morning, dear".

You're ripped rather rudely out of your train of thought. Jerking in shock, you rip your legs off the table, nearly unsettling the cup and banging your ankle against the edge.

"Fucks sake, dad. You scared me!"

Annoyed at yourself for being so jumpy you grumble at him and eye him reproachfully. "What were you and mum arguing about then?" you ask him, pretending you care when you're just sick of it all. "Pardon?" he asks, putting on a nonchalant expression. "You and mum were arguing, and then one of you broke that plate that you bought at the fair and that woke me up." "Oh, you heard…"

Sighing, you roll your eyes before muttering "yeah, no shit".

He shrugs apologetically before quickly changing the subject: "Have a good time yesterday, did you?"

"… Pardon?" It's your turn to ask him now. "You went to Angela and Michaela's house yesterday, didn't you? Movie night, or whatever you girls do nowadays"

You feel your mouth dry out and your stomach drop and suddenly feel rather faint. "Oh right. Yeah, of course. Uh, yeah, we, uh, had a great time. I left early though, I came back and slept here, Angela wasn't feeling well, fever and cold and I think its rubbed off one me a bit, anyway, yeah we watched a movie and talked a bit and then I came home at about…" you trail off, noticing you're rambling. "What time did you get back, dad? I don't think you were home yet when I came back?" There's a slightly awkward pause before your dad clears his throat and replies, "around 10 p.m I would say. Why?"

"Ok, yeah neither you nor mum was back yet. I went to theirs at about half six, after I'd gone for a short walk with Bo and came back at like nine-ish, I think. Which reminds me, I should probably get in touch with them, see how Angela is feeling"

You stand up quickly, too quickly, and almost fall back onto the sofa. "Head rush" you murmur sheepishly before walking around your father, ignoring his curious gaze and make your way back upstairs.

Crashing onto your chair, you pick up that damned hat that got you in such a mess and think. Michaela and Angela are twins, and have been very good friends of yours for a very long time. You remember now how you were due to go round to theirs yesterday evening for a catch up and sleepover. And you forgot. Just like that. Or rather, you didn't _quite_ make it, due to being accosted by a drunken youth and very foolishly falling asleep in a _graveyard_.

Checking your phone, you have three unread messages: one from Michaela, one from Angela and one from your mobile phone service provider. You hastily tap out a message to Michaela, asking her if you can phone her to explain. Within a few minutes of nervous waiting, you receive a reply 'Skype? X' Sighing in relief, you switch on your computer and log on to Skype. You dial up Michaela and wait for her to accept your call.

" Hey you. How are you doing?"

"Michaela, I am so unbelievably sorry, you can't believe how bad I feel for standing you two up. Please forgive me!"

"Uh, well it would have been nice to maybe get a text at least, but I understand if you don't want to come visit us."  
"No! No, Michaela, you don't understand, I-"

"I don't understand? Oh boy, you can be so lucky you're talking to me, not Angela. She would be ripping you into pieces right now. As it is, she's actually ill, so maybe it was better you didn't come round yesterday"

"She's ill? Look, I can explain!"

"No, don't worry about it. Really, just come round when you have time and then we can have a recap."

"You're not mad at me?

"Not really. I'm not stupid; I know something's going on in your personal life at home, so I thought it might be good idea to get your mind off things. Have a girly evening, you know?"

"I… yeah, well. Things aren't that great at home right now. You're right. Anyway, its not that I didn't want to come round yesterday, its just such a long story and I'm really not sure what actually happened yesterday and I'm confused myself and I don't know what's going on. Am I going mad? I sound mad, don't I?"

"Only slightly my dear. But aren't we all mad? Anyway, if you want to talk about yesterday, I have time. Did someone slip you 'roofies' or something? You seem pretty fuddled…"

"I… I lost my hat on the way home from school. And on the way home I nearly ran into this guy with my bike. It was his fault, he was standing in the middle of the road, but maybe I didn't' pay enough attention. Anyway, so I nearly ran into him and then had to wedge my way past him and it was really embarrassing and then-"

"Was he hot?" you can hear the smile play on her lips before she chuckles.

"I- what?"

"You heard me," she laughs.

"I guess. Yes, he had beautiful eyes. Anyway, that's not the point. So when I got home I noticed I'd lost my hat and then went out with Bo to look for it and I went past the shop and there was this group of teens, and one of them kind of… well, he, uh, he was drunk, and, uh, hekissedme" you squirm uncomfortably before finishing the sentence in a rush, your cheeks burning at the mere thought of the incident.

"Oh. Wow. Uh, WHY did you let him kiss you?"

"I didn't want to, it just kind of happened. He just sort of lunged forward and snogged me"

There's a slight silence before you continue.

"Anyway, so then I didn't want to have to go back past them, and I still hadn't found my hat, so I walked off and then ended up in the graveyard and I sat down and I… well I started crying and jut kind of sat there and then I found my hat!"

"You found your hat? What, so it just dropped out of the sky? Or did it magically appear in front of you? Was it lying on a headstone?" Michaela's voice drips with sarcasm. "Please, do enlighten me"

Sighing, you realise it sounds ridiculous.

"No, someone came and gave it to me. Along with that persons coat."

"Who was it?"

"I… don't know. Anyway, next thing I knew I had fallen asleep, but before that I saw a fox!"  
"Fascinating. Please, do tell more"

"It was a beautiful fox, too. I saw it and it looked at me and… I heard a voice. A mans voice" you pause, waiting for her reaction.

"What'd it say? The voice, I mean, not the fox, 'cos that would be creepy…"

"Stay safe, love"

"Holy shit, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Michaela exclaims in surprise. "That's just creepy, you know"

"Yeah well. And then I fell asleep. In the graveyard."

"Let me get this straight; your hat appeared out of nowhere, someone gave you their coat- you don't know who though, and then you see a fox and hear a voice AND THEN YOU FALL ASLEEP? What are you, mental?"

You smile weakly, "possibly. And then I had a weird dream and when I woke up, I was in my bed"

"Okay, that's slightly weird. You fall asleep in the graveyard, which is, what, like, 15 minutes from your house, and then you wake up in your bed? I didn't know you sleepwalk..."

"I don't think I sleepwalked. Someone must have carried me from the graveyard. I remember this swaying feeling, like being on a ship. And then that person somehow got in the house and put me to bed and… changed me into my pyjamas."

You can imagine Michaela's eyebrows creep up, until her fringe obscures them. Sighing, you put your head in your hands. You feel confused, tired, and now you think of the fact that you are indeed in your pyjamas, with no recollection of ever putting them on, scared.

You hear a door open and someone walk into Michaela's room.

"Hey, Michaela can you- Oh! Hey bub, how are you? Didn't know you and Michaela were chatting. Turn on the camera, I want to see your lovely face!" It's Angela. She sounds cheerful, if somewhat hoarse. You oblige, and a few seconds later see the twins grinning at you.

"Angela, I'm really sorry about not coming round yesterday and not telling you where I was."

"Oh shut up, you silly girl. It doesn't matter. Don't worry, I'm not going to have a got at you, was just wondering, have you done your art coursework yet?"

"Art? What art coursework?"

You see Michaela roll her eyes and Angela smirks into the camera.

"I've done mine. Did it yesterday, seeing as you decided to not show up. Anyway, it was, uh, you have to focus on an object, or a piece of clothing or whatever and sketch it, and then draw it in two different styles. Ya know?"

"Oh yeah. Thanks for reminding me. What did object did you choose?"

"My mums pearl necklace and a scarf. I geeked out and did two things, I was so into it" she laughs, "I guess you don't know what thing to choose?" She looks around her room, and then inspects your room via the camera. "Hey, what about that coat?"

You look at her, and confusion is clearly painted on your face, as she motions at you, pointing at something in your room.

Turning around, you see something black and heavy looking draped over the back of your chair.

Walking towards it, you feel slightly faint as you see a long leather coat with a red sash tied around its left sleeve.


	5. Chapter 5

Picking it up, you feel the now familiar material of the coat. It's still warm which surprises you, as you haven't worn it for about 14 hours. Unless someone else just wore it and put it on your chair while you were talking to Michaela. You're about to smell it when you snap back into reality. That'd make you look pretty weird to your friends who have now started arguing about something or other. You walk back towards the computer, coat firmly clutched in your hand. "Where'd you get it from? Was your dad a punk or something?" Angela laughs. You smile weakly and look rather pointedly at Michaela. "Michaela can explain". Michaela's eyes widen: "That's _the_ coat? Oh boy, Angela. You'll never guess what happened to our dear friend yesterday…"

"Well, I'm off now" -you motion with the coat- "do some art, you know? Try to clear my head a bit. Sorry again for not coming by. Talk to you later, bye" "see ya babe"

And with that your room is quiet.

It's almost ten now, so you decide to eat something and then get on with your homework. Slinging the coat over your shoulder you carry it downstairs and leave it hanging over a chair by the table. In the morning, the room in the house that has the most natural light is the kitchen, so you decide to start your art here. After popping some bread in the toaster, you trudge back upstairs, get dressed, collect your sketchpad and iPod, check your homework planner, sharpen your coloured pencils, find the charcoal sticks and walk back to the kitchen. The toast is ready so you grab it and are about to sit down when the phone rings.

You answer and hear Angela's voice: "Did you get raped?" "I...what?" "Last night, when you got put to bed by that mysterious person, did you get raped?" "I hope not" you answer carefully and try to keep the panic from eating you up as you realise you have no idea what happened yesterday. Angela sighs in exasperation: "That's what we all hope. You okay?" "Yeah, I guess" you answer shakily, "I'm about to start art actually." "Oh okay, well good luck, have fun and all that. Call me if you want to talk, okay?" "Will do, thanks Angela. Bye"

"Bye love"

You freeze. That wasn't Angela's voice.

"Angela?" you ask uncertainly.

"Nope. She's already hung up. Just you and me now, love."

"Who are you?" the question slips from your lips before you can think. Don't encourage him to talk. Just hang up, the voice in your head shouts. You hear him laugh, a throaty chuckle that seems to wind its way through the telephone and straight through your heart, sending chills up your spine. "That would be telling. We-ell, guess I might as well give you a little hint. I'm your saviour from last night."

Your mind races to think of something to say. Something that might scare him off, make him hang up. You can't think of anything.

The voice in your head is telling you to hang up, anything to get rid of this intrusion into your privacy. Not that your life seems to be private to this man anymore- after all, he did carry you home, somehow get in the house and change you into your pyjamas. Banishing the thought, you slowly bring the phone down from your ear and are about to hang up when you hear, uncomfortably close to your ear:

"Tssk. I wouldn't do that, love. Its impolite to hang up on people".

You feel warm breath gusting down your neck and down the collar of your shirt.

"Now, be a good girl, pick the phone back up, and continue the conversation."

You feel frozen in place. Your mind has slowed down and the figurative gears in your head have ground to a halt. Your eyes are closed and you're shaking. Not because you're cold. You feel warm, too warm, unbearably hot almost, your body warmed by the mans breath. Hearing a growled "phone" your eyes snap back open. Looking out of the window you're standing at, very faintly you see you reflection: pale, wide eyed, frozen in place. Like a deer caught in the headlights; a rabbit being stared down by the hunter.

Behind you, you see a dark figure leaning down, head bent slightly, mouth by your ear, eyes gleaming.

He smiles, eyes never leaving your transfixed ones in the reflection before murmuring "Hello beautiful. Miss me?"

You're about to turn your head to look at him properly when you hear the front door open and your parents' voices. Hope floods through you; he can't do anything to harm you now you're parents are back; he might even take flight and leave you alone.

About to open your mouth to call for help, you feel his hand snake up, tracing a line from your hip up your back. Surprised at his sudden touch, you breath stops in your throat. By now, your parents should have long entered the kitchen but, as fate would have it, you hear them, still at the front door, calling to Bo.

Snapping back to the situation you are finding yourself in, you feel his hand higher up now, brushing against the nape of your neck before encircling your throat. His thumb strokes over your jaw and you are aware of his other arm around your waist, holding you tightly in place, lest you try to run. Not that that notion even entered your brain, not now that his hand applies pressure to your throat.

You feel his hand lessen the pressure on your throat but at the same time pull you backwards slightly. Now leaning against him, you're in a rather unfortunate position- you can't call for help, nor try to escape forwards, nor try to attack him as you are pressed against him, his one arm holding you firmly in place, while his other hand lies over your throat, reminding you of the power he has over you. You might as well give up…

Again, you are aware of his breath before you hear his voice, dangerously soft: " Pick the phone back up. You are still talking to Angela. Now your parents are back, you want more privacy to talk to your dear friend. Once your parents enter the kitchen, in about… two minutes, make sure they see you're talking on the phone. Walk to your room and close the door. Make sure they don't…disturb you. Well, us." He pauses before continuing slowly: "Do. You. Understand?" You nod mechanically before raising the phone back up to your ear, "I understand" you whisper.

You feel him nod: "Good girl. See, it's easier if you cooperate". His hand releases your throat fully and he trails it up your jaw, stroking your cheek before tangling itself in your hair.

He pulls your head slightly to the right and you feel his lips very faintly trail their way from your ear down to your neck, before pressing a kiss on you collarbone.

You swallow audibly and feel your heart beat irregularly. His lips curve into a smile on your skin before his arm leaves your waist. "Act normal".

He's gone. Turning around, the kitchen is empty. Clutching the phone tightly, you busy yourself with picking up the plate pieces that are still lying on the kitchen floor. Slowly, you feel your head clear, your heartbeat return to normal and your hands stop shaking.

'Act normal'. Or what? What would he do? He didn't threaten you with anything, after all. Did he?

You have half a mind to stay in the kitchen, hang up the phone and converse with your parents, just to see what he would do. Bo trots into the kitchen and lies down next to the table. Glancing up, you see the leather coat hanging on the chair. It seems silly, but it scares you. It's a coat, you remind yourself. Yes, it's just a coat, but it is _his_ coat. Your eyes rove over the clothing item, taking in its shape. As your eyes rest on the red band on the left arm, you feel a sting on your hand. Looking at the palm of your left hand, you see a faint line. Slowly, blood begins to ooze from the cut, small beads of copper scented liquid that soon join together and start trickling across your hand.

You must have cut yourself on a shard of porcelain. Unless… glancing fearfully back at the coat, you half expect him to be standing there clutching a knife- that's ridiculous, you reprimand yourself. But you can't quite shake a nervous feeling that's started to grow in your stomach.

What if he hurts your parents?

So, however unwilling you originally were, you decide to follow his orders. You're still kneeling on the floor, phone wedged between your ear and shoulder. You start talking to 'Angela', even leaving pauses 'listening to what she says'. Peeking at your bleeding palm, the blood flow seems to have stopped, or at least slowed.

Your mother walks into the kitchen and sees you on the floor- cut on your palm, phone lodged uncomfortably between ear and shoulder, picking up shard of plate. She smiles in greeting at you, before looking at the phone questioningly. You mouth 'Angela' – the voice in your head screaming liar- and she smiles, before her eyes land on your cut palm. Clucking softly, she shoos your hands away and helps you stand, before handing you a wad of tissues. You smile at her, although the action seems strangely twisted and wrong and motion that you are heading upstairs. She nods and busies herself with clearing the plate.

Walking up the stairs, you continue to talk into the phone. With every step, your feet feel heavier and the knot in your stomach grows.

Standing in front of your room, you take a deep breath before glancing through the open door. No one there. Still, you have 'orders' to follow. Stepping inside, you look around, half expecting to be punished for dawdling. Your room is empty. Closing the door behind you, your hands hover over the key, deliberating. Finally, you lock the door and pocket the key. Squaring your shoulders, you turn around and walk stiffly over to the chair. Sitting down, you notice you're still holding the phone. Grimacing, you drop it on the floor and settle back.

You wait.

And you wait.

No one is there, no one in the room. Only you and the fear, slowly being replaced with anger and humiliation. Grumbling, after about half an hour of waiting, you stand up and go to unlock your door.

Searching your pockets for the key, you can't find it. Checking your pockets, it seems as if the key disappeared. Exasperated, you walk back to the chair and search the floor around it for the lost key.

Huffing in annoyance, you start searching for the damned key in places you know it can't be. You look in your school bag, on the table, by the bookshelf; practically turn your room upside down to find it.

"Fuck". Standing by your window, you even search the windowsill.

Again, you search your pockets, patting yourself down. In frustration and quickly running out of places to search, you decide to unbutton your shirt- perhaps the key slipped down your top? Ridiculous, you remind yourself and turn towards the door. Seeing a flash of dark in your peripheral vision, you freeze. Turning your head slightly, you aren't even surprised to see him. Reclining rather majestically on your bunk bed, long legs dangling over the edge, arms folded behind his head, he leans against the wall, wearing an amused look on his face. He smirks, "please, don't let me stop you. Do continue searching for your key in the most outrageous places. Have you looked in your wardrobe yet? Perhaps it's in a CD case. In your makeup bag, or even stuck behind your clock." His eyes widen in mock pity before he grins and says, eyes gleaming: "Have you looked in your bra yet?"

Setting your face in a look of indifference, you regard him coolly.

"Oh love, don't look at me like that. Shall I give you a hint?" he pauses theatrically before continuing, "you haven't searched your bed, or anything in, or on it, yet."

He shrugs at your furious expression and smiles at you, which only makes you angrier.

"I guess you belong to things that are 'on' my bed?" you ask, emotion making your voice crack.

He forms a slight 'o' with his mouth before grinning, "Thought you'd never ask". In a flash, he stands in front of you. Smiling widely, he extends his arms sideways, as though he is going through a security check at the airport. You pause, before crossing your arms firmly and looking at him.

Sighing, he lets his arms drop back down and whispers to you, behind a raised hand "Its under your pillow". Uncertain, you continue looking at him, trying to see how sincere he is. He nods wide-eyed and you step slowly past him to your bed. Raising the pillow, you see no key. Hearing him chuckle, you turn back to him and see him fish the key out of the pocket of his trousers. Sauntering towards you, his eyes glitter darkly and all humour seems to have been wiped suddenly from his face. You step back a few steps and only notice the mistake in your retreat when you back against the door. When he does talk, his voice is cold and cuts through you like a blade, making the cut on your palm throb. "Why were you looking for the key? Trying to escape, were we? You can't just leave a guest like that. You're very impolite, you know that? First trying to hang up on me, and now leaving me alone in your room. Unacceptable" he shakes his head mournfully and is now standing in front of you. Backed against the door, you once again have no way of escaping, as the door is locked and he is holding the key tauntingly. "I'm sorry…" you start, feeling your voice crack in desperation but are cut off as, suddenly, he grabs your left hand and presses the cold key on the cut before closing your fingers around it. Taking your other hand, he pushes you fully against the door before ducking his head down to your level.

"Good to know you can follow orders"

"You what?" you manage to press out in confusion before he smiles and bends his head, his lips making their way up your neck.

Closing your eyes, you ignore any sort of alarm bell that is going off in your head. This is wrong, really wrong, but really, if you're being honest you don't want him to stop. You're enjoying the way he makes you feel. That sounds terribly corny, but really, its true.

His hands release yours and entwine themselves in your hair before cradling your face gently. He smiles at you, not a smirk or a leer; a smile. As if he is genuinely happy about something. About you? Your reaction (or rather lack of negative reaction)? The fact that you can 'follow orders'? As those thoughts cross your mind, his lips near yours. You feel, once again, his breath on your lips when, as fate would have it, your mother calls you, something about her needing the phone. Grinning, he places a chaste kiss on your forehead before looking down at you and murmuring: "Be careful who you trust. It's a big, dangerous world out there". Snorting disdainfully, you roll your eyes.

But when you look at him, the smile is gone and his eyes seem to glaze over in thought. There's a knock on your door and he snaps back, grinning at you before whispering "I'll be wanting my coat back once you've finished your art work". You can't help but smile back and, at the sound of another knock, he winks at you. "Hang on", you call to your mother while trying to fit the key in the lock. Unlocking the door, you quickly pick up the phone and hand it to her, before turning back into your room. Its empty, but the window is open, cool wind blowing in. Closing it, you glance out and see a fox standing by your bike. Smiling uncertainly you raise a hand in a gesture of farewell. The fox plods around your bike a few times before loping off into the trees.

You think back to what he said to you: "Be careful who you trust"

Can you trust him?

"It's a dangerous world out there", yeah, well, does he belong to the dangers out there?

He's strange- you can't help but admit that, but somehow it makes him more intriguing.

The logical thing to do would probably be to throw his coat away and forget him. It'd be wrong to trust him, surely? You're not even sure why you did what he told you. Yes, you were scared at his unexpected intrusion, but he didn't threaten to hurt you or anyone else. The cut was just a coincidence and your imagination ran away with you.

Was it fear that made you pull off the most ridiculous acting you've ever done or was it the thought of a possible reward. A kiss, maybe, or more. Grunting "horny teenage girl" at yourself, you march into the kitchen and start on drawing his coat. His. You snort. Ridiculous how you know nothing about him. Not even his name. Unnerving how much he seems to know about you.

God knows how you'll get it back to him…

_**A/N: Sorry its taken so long to get this chapter up, typing it out seemed to take me an age. Thank you all for reading etc.!**_

_**Merry Christmas & a happy new year to you all! : )**_


	6. Chapter 6

The next few days bleed into weeks and soon December has arrived, bringing with it freezing temperatures and the danger of slipping on ice every three metres.

Time seems to rush past, blurring the minutes and hours of the days, blending them together- a mess.

A jumble of information and events: school work; assignments, projects, fast approaching end of term exams, private life; arguments, shouting, noise, forced calm- flitting in and back out of your mind.

Its as though you are standing still, unmoving, and time spins its circle around you, faster and faster until you see only a blur and hear just a constant buzzing. It doesn't unnerve you, the way that time speeds up and you barely have time to register one day before the next week starts, its just that now there is no way for you take a step back and breathe, think about things clearly- your parents marriage disintegrating slowly, your grades falling, taking Bo for a walk, _that man_ and his eyes, the feel of his lips on your skin.

After you had finished your art work, you stored the coat in your wardrobe amongst your jumpers and pullovers. Your mum never went through your wardrobe, so there was no danger of her getting it out and washing it, or enquiring.

Of course you had had every intention of giving the coat back, and on the Sunday after his unexpected visit, you had gone out on your bike, coat stowed in backpack. You ended up in the graveyard, after deciding that hanging around in an alley might not make the best impression on neighbours. You sat on the bench for a while before people started arriving for the Sunday service. You lingered, of course, and took your time getting back, dawdling in the hope you might run into him again. You didn't see him. So, upon returning home you had hung the coat up by the front door until your mother had questioned the smell of smoke and (new to you) whiskey that had started to spread from the door. So you had hung it up in your wardrobe and noticed that now your backpack smelt of the man, though really, that didn't bother you at all. After a few weeks, the smell had faded, along with the memory of the coat firmly stuffed into the recesses of your wardrobe and eventually, the memory of that cold Friday night and disturbance of Saturday morning.

It had been frighteningly easy to forget all about the man with dark eyes who made you feel so vulnerable yet strangely at peace. And from then on, time did not seem to heed its speed. It felt like a dream or as if someone had pressed the fast forward button. Your life was one big circle, and you were barely able to differentiate one day from the next. After a while, your mind seemed to rid itself of all structure. Yes, you ate, you talked, drank, laughed, breathed, it just didn't feel… right. Disjointed, set back, you saw your own life flit by in front of your eyes, unable to slow it. You'll wake in the morning, dress, have breakfast and leave for school. You pay enough attention in class, your grades are falling, but you're still top of the class and in the evening, you make it home safely. You have dinner, converse with your parents, do your work and then go to bed. You sleep.

You seem to sleep all the time. For a while, you just felt lost in your life, until you started dreaming. Not that you've never dreamed anything before, this is just the first time you wake up and are convinced it was real. You remember everything you saw. After a while, you see your life in two parts: one spent in bed, dreaming, sleeping, hoping- and the rest.

You have vivid dreams and find yourself waking in the night, bathed in sweat. They're not nightmares, per se; nothing chases you, you don't die, nothing jumps and scares you. You don't see much, everything is murky and you lie. You have to remember something, but you can't grasp it. You have to lie, you need to save someone. So you lie. To save a life. But you never find out if the person is saved thanks to your lie.

You wake up and are fearful you failed, you're drenched in blood, and it's too late. Its only sweat though, and after a while, you learn to ignore the dreams and the fear, and go back to sleep.

This night, you see a fox lying on the ground, surrounded by a group of people. You want to chase them away, want to tell them to leave the fox and just go. Something stops you though. One of them keeps asking you questions and you don't know why, but you lie. Something tells you to lie to protect the fox. You want to save the fox. The man steps towards you, grabs you by the leather coat you're wearing and rips something off the left sleeve. Bringing his hand up, you see him clutching a faded red band. He turns around and throws it towards the fox on the ground. As the band lands, it turns black, lengthens and wraps itself around the russet animal, binding its legs together.

You see pain and anguish in the animal's eyes but also something mad, slightly delirious that puts you momentarily off going to help it. After a split seconds deliberation however, you wrench yourself free from the mans grip and rush to the fox's side, wanting to undo the bind around its leg. You hear a commotion behind you and turn around slightly; to see the man raise something before a brilliant flash of green light blinds you.

Jolting up, it takes you a few minutes to get your bearing. It was just a dream, you remind yourself. Breathing heavily, you lie back down and close your eyes before stifling a scream. When you closed your eyes you saw the dream again, a flash of green which you remember from somewhere, and on the ground, no longer a fox, but the crumpled, bound, bloodied body of a man. The outline of the corpse is burnt into your eyelids and convulsing, your body shakes and shudders and you feel tears fall in despair. You've never had such a strong reaction to a dream, and you wonder if you're coming down with a fever. Clambering shakily out of bed, you open then window and when you turn back around, you see again the corpse on the ground and slowly, you begin to recognize the man. Walking towards your wardrobe you open the door and rummage around, reaching to the farthest corner, scrabbling to feel the rough leather texture. Shoving the other clothes to the side of the rail, you see the coat and go to grab it from the hanger before you recoil: it's not just the coat, there's a body _in_ the coat. Long hair partly obscures the face, but you can just about see, set deep into the pale, waxy, sallow skin, dark grey eyes that stare at you, unblinking, unseeing- dead.

Stumbling back you trip in your haste to retreat and shut the door. Just before your head hits the floor, you see the coat drop from the hanger, fall onto the bottom of the wardrobe and the body drops towards you. Raising your hands to protect yourself, you hear a crunch, feel it resonate in your head as your skull cracks and your last breath comes out in a scream as you-

Wake up.

It was all just a dream. You must have fallen asleep in exhaustion. Propping yourself up, you see your window- open. Hesitantly you glance towards the wardrobe and almost faint from shock: the door is open, and there is a coat lying on the floor. No body, just the coat in a harmless heap. Next to it, you see a piece of paper. Puzzled and intrigued, but wary, you climb out of bed (again? For the first time this night?) and pick up the paper.

Scrawled onto it is a note '_your bad dreams are getting more and more frequent. Try to remember what they tell you. But trust no one. Don't tell anyone- it's a dangerous world'_

A breeze flits in trough the window, making you shiver. As you close the window, you glance down into the garden. Content about not seeing anything unnerving, you smile before you hear a rustle. A shape moves out of the shadows and you hold your breath, hardly daring to look. Peering past the window frame, you see a fox slink its way across the grass. Sighing in relief, you close the window and the curtains before you remember the dream. What if the fox is in danger? You'll need to warn it- you fling the curtains back to see- nothing. The garden is empty. No sign of any animal.

Maybe you're going mad. It was, after all, just a dream

* * *

I don't think I can apologize enough for not updating earlier. Appaling effort on my behalf, I know. I suck, sorry. Uh, yeah. Not sure how this story will get to the end, I don't really know what this chapter was about. It might not make sense, sorry. Writers block was to blame for not getting this chapter finished and unmotivation for not typing it our earlier.

Hope you enjoy it anyway. :)

And a warning- don't expect the next chapter for a while: I haven't even written it yet, let alone have any idea how to fuse them together. Sorry :s


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